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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949427">words that sleep, words you keep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitaes/pseuds/gravitaes'>gravitaes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:06:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitaes/pseuds/gravitaes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz gets a little too honest in his sleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>words that sleep, words you keep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i apologise for not updating any works for a while, it's because my laptop broke over august and i could only get it fixed at the start of september. i've also been busy getting used to uni, but luckily i have a few fics saved from the summer to post, so expect more snowbaz and other fandoms as well! in the meantime, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is the last straw.</p>
<p>With Baz there’s always one. There’s the time he spelled my underwear so that they’d show outside of my trousers, making me look like bloody Superman, with less of the god sent abs and more of the ridiculous spandex look. There’s the time when he left me in a ditch in the middle of the woods with a sprained ankle. Granted, I had just insulted his aunt and her choice in fashion, but it had been raining. Penny hadn’t found me til sunset, and by then I had already been shivering with a cold, attempting a warm up spell with chattering lips. He had sneered at me when Penny had dragged me back to the room, and said he’d been simply trying to help me practise with my spells. If the bloody Anathema didn’t exist I would’ve blasted him out of the window right then and there, blowing that stupid smirk off his stupid face.</p>
<p>But this I think, gritting my teeth, is the last straw, and I take the steps to our turret room two at a time. Each foot landing on the stone echoes with what I had heard earlier: Agatha and her tittering friends, skirts splayed out in the courtyard, blonde hair shining in the sun, looking perfect, as if our breakup a few weeks ago didn’t matter. How her friends had teased her about Baz, of all people, Baz who apparently stared at her in class, Baz who met her once in the middle of the night to give her his handkerchief, Baz who they all promised, promised would ask Agatha out. </p>
<p>Baz, Baz, Baz, my magic chants, and my blood curdles from anger. Baz who gets the perfect grades and the perfect family and the perfect face and the perfect girl. And what do you get? a voice teases in my ear, a sour laugh that leaves an acrid taste in my mouth. I’m the Chosen One, the Mage’s Heir, but all I get is nothing. </p>
<p>I bet Baz would be laughing once I enter. He’d be lounging on his bed, curls of midnight black against his pale collarbone, strong legs (I’ve seen him play football, I’m not stupid) stretched against sheets, slender fingers curled around the edge of a book, a picture of rich comfort. He’d look up and meet my eyes with his own, a cold and icy grey, and he’d laugh, the pink of his lips stretched in a cruel smile. Poor Snow, he’d jeer. Couldn’t get the girl, bet he can’t save us. Chosen One, my arse.</p>
<p>It definitely feels like the last straw, by the way I barge in, throwing the door open with one hand and unleashing my sword with the other, teeth bared and Anathema be damned, the need to hurt and snap making my magic crackle in the air unnoticeably.</p>
<p>Maybe not that unnoticeably, since Baz is on his bed, just like I’d imagined (not that I’ve imagined Baz in bed) but deeply, and profoundly asleep. </p>
<p>The rage in me recedes, if only by a little. I step cautiously towards him, sword still in hand as I near the side nearest to my bed. The window on the Baz’s side is slightly open, blowing in the evening wind and ruffling the bedsheets. Baz lies unperturbed by it, turned to his side so that he faces me, one hand under his pillow, the other between the pages of a book, evident that he fell asleep by reading it. </p>
<p>I lean forward, close enough to smell the faint musk of his cologne, to hear the huff of each breath that causes his shoulders to rise and fall, the hem of his pyjama shirt slipping down his collarbone. His skin looks flushed, a pink that seems too much of a soft colour on Baz. Still, it spreads across his cheekbones and down the nape of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. His curls are askew, not the artfully placed style that always greets me in the morning with a leering face and doesn’t even blow out of place outside. Here, they fall across his face, trailing down his fluttering eyelashes, sticking to the edge of puckered lips. </p>
<p>It’s not the hair that confuses me, or his lips, or the pink of his usually pale skin. It’s the expression he wears. With the faces he usually makes at me, it’s hard to grapple with what his face looks like now: like he’s...at peace. Happy is a stretch, but content isn’t. It’s worlds away from the Baz I’ve known for nearly seven years, and it makes him look years younger, like the sharp faced boy I’d met for the first time. It makes me feel the same way, that heart skipping feeling that makes my own cheeks flush. </p>
<p>I shake my head, stepping backwards. Baz isn’t the boy I wanted him to be, and he isn’t right now, even when he’s sleeping. He’s stealing your girlfriend, the sour voice hisses. </p>
<p>“Ex-girlfriend,” I correct under my breath, but recall how even when we were together Baz would always be on my case about her, always giving flirtatious remarks that sent all the girls in our year giggling, particularly when paired with a steel eyed smoulder.</p>
<p>But when I reach my hand out to shake him awake, my hand falters, eyes falling on Baz’s sleeping form, that delicate expression marred by the purplish grey crescents under his eyes. I collapse with a sigh on the edge of his bed, careful when the mattress dips with my weight. I may hate Baz, and I know that if it was the other way round Baz would have woken me up, regardless of my exhaustion. But I’m not heartless. And despite what Agatha says, I’m not blind when it comes to feelings. At least not as blind as she thinks I am.</p>
<p>“Maybe she is better off with you, mate,” I grumble, turning to Baz. “Apart from the whole vampire thing, which I know is real, you’d be a perfect boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“Not perfect,” Baz mumbles, and I jump, reaching for my sword. He sighs against his pillow, rubbing his cheek against it. “You know me better than that, Auntie.”</p>
<p>The tension in my shoulders lessens, if only by a little. He’s still sleeping, I reassure myself, but lean in close to check, his breath a steady rise and fall from parted lips. A tongue peeks out in the corner, and he sighs again, chuckling sleepily. “Remember when I told the professor that Snow cheated on the Magical History test just so that I could get a higher mark than Bunce?” <br/>I reel backwards, gasping in shock that bleeds into quiet rage. “So that was true, I bloody knew it!” I remember Professor calling me out in front of the whole class, how Baz had given a wolfish grin as the class groaned in unison, boring me with their frustrated looks. To know I had suffered that embarrassment just for Baz’s personal and selfish gains makes my magic hum louder, snapping heat in my veins. </p>
<p>“Course it was,” Baz hums. “I’d never lie to you, Auntie.”</p>
<p>My hand stops reaching for my sword, any intent to wake him up dispersed by a curious idea popping in my head. Baz is sound asleep, and completely unaware that the person he’s confessing to is the person he should most definitely not be confessing to. And it’s the person who can use it to their advantage. </p>
<p>“Okay, Baz,” I begin, settling on the bed properly by crossing one leg under me, the other brushing the carpet. I decide to start with something mild. “Who do you like better, Dev or Niall?”</p>
<p>Baz snorts. “Niall, obviously. Dev has half a brain.” Baz hums again. “Then again, he was my first.”</p>
<p>I frown in confusion. First what? Friend? My trail of thought gets distracted as Baz shifts in his sleep again, and I realise the top two buttons of his silk shirt are open, a slice of his chest pink and gold from the sunlight. For one brief moment, I wonder if it’s warm, if vampires feel warmth, and if I’d be able to feel it too, thrumming under my fingertips if I press them against Baz’s chest. </p>
<p>I catch myself, cold horror jerking me upright. I shouldn’t be thinking of Baz’s chest, let alone touching it. I try to conjure an image of a sword piercing it instead, but the image makes me feel even more queasy, and I inhale deeply to focus my thoughts, unclenching my fingers. Agatha appears in my mind, and the conversation I heard earlier, the rage I felt when she blushed at Baz’s name. I focus on that instead, gritting my teeth.</p>
<p>“What about Agatha?” I demand, and I hate how wobbly my voice is. “How much do you like her?”</p>
<p>Baz huffs through his nose. “I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Don’t lie,” I hiss, and the air turns acrid with my magic. “She’s halfway in love with you. You wanted to take her from me— from Simon,” I add hastily. “You’d love to rub it in his face, wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>Baz scrunches his nose at the smell, and I let my magic tuck back in, anything for him to stop making that ridiculous face. It is ridiculous, I insist, the way his nose looks small and his eyebrows furrow and his lips push into a rosy pout. “Auntie,” he whines in a sing-song voice, and my stomach clenches horribly. “You know why I don’t like her. I don’t swing that way, remember?”</p>
<p>“What.” No. No, this isn’t happening.</p>
<p>Baz giggles, and I close my eyes briefly and pray the ground will swallow me whole. “Girls aren’t my type. Boys are cute, aren’t they? I like boys, Auntie,” Baz sighs, curls brushing his pink cheeks. </p>
<p>“Niall was your first,” I hear myself say, echoing his words.</p>
<p>“First kiss. Disgusting. Too wet. Too much tongue.” Baz scrunches his nose again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t slept with anyone yet. No need for the protection talk.”</p>
<p>A helpless noise comes from my throat, and I turn away, cheeks burning. Baz is gay. Baz likes boys. Boys. Are what Baz likes. My roommate, my archnemesis likes boys and came out unwillingly in his sleep.</p>
<p>I groan, running a hand through my hair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. At best, I would’ve got Baz to confess how he’s using Agatha just to get to me, and I’d be able to tell Agatha the truth and then— then what? We’d get back together? Become the perfect couple again?</p>
<p>But we can’t, because Baz doesn’t like Agatha. Because of course he wouldn’t, he likes boys. I don’t know why those two facts have to be intertwining, that I can’t be with Agatha because Baz likes boys. I could find a way to make her love me again, now that I know Baz is out of the picture. It’s not that impossible. So why do I feel like I've given up on her? Like I can give up on her, because I know now...I know there’s a chance that...that Baz could—</p>
<p>I cut off my thoughts, squashing my thoughts in the back of my mind, just like I always do with these irrational, stupid thoughts I have of Baz. I focus on the facts, like the fact that Baz just told he he was gay without knowing it was me. And I know I hate him, and I’m supposed to hate him, but guilt still gnaws in my stomach. I don’t even know if he’s out; maybe he is, and I’ve just been too occupied with his evil/plotting life to notice his personal life. Maybe he isn’t, and it isn’t my secret to share, but I did. I made him do it, for stupid and selfish reason that makes me feel less like the Chosen One, being one step ahead of my enemy, and more of a grade A douchebag.</p>
<p>Baz groans in his sleep, turning to lie flat on his back. The placid expression on his face is gone, and his eyebrows are scrunched tight, the pink flush gone. In fact, he looks paler than he usually does, face drawn. “No,” he murmurs. “Fucking numpties. Don’t leave me here, please.”</p>
<p>“Baz?” I lower my voice so as not to startle him, fingers splayed against the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>Another groan emits from his lips, fingers raking in his hair. “I’m so hungry, I-I’m so...it’s dark in here, please, please let me out,” Baz says, and he’s pleading, in such a distraught voice it sends shivers down my spine. “Please, I don’t...it’s dark, it’s too dark.”</p>
<p>The bedside table begins to shake, and I realise the whole room is shaking, my drawers rattling, the wardrobe doors creaking open and close, books sliding off the desk and thudding on the floor. “Baz,” I say slowly. “Baz, you need to calm down.”</p>
<p>Baz is jerking in his sleep now, and a noise catches in his throat, one that sounds too much like a sob. “No, I need to...I-I need to eat, I’m so hungry, I’m so...fuck, it’s too dark, I’m scared, I’m so scared,” he hisses, and I’m frightened too, at how raw his voice sounds, usually so careful and sure of itself, now breaking over stuttered words. “Let me out, please, let me out!”</p>
<p>“Baz!” And I don’t know how, but I’m suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders and bringing him to my chest, feeling his body shake against mine. My hand curls in his hair, stroking down to the nape of his neck. “Baz it’s okay, it’s okay you’re safe. You’re—” I choke, as my magic swirls around him, and I see a flash of an image: Baz trapped in a coffin, bloodied knuckles punching against glass, large grotesque creatures jeering at him from outside. My heart clenches, and I squeeze him closer, my other hand catching both his wrists and bringing them between our chests. “Baz, we’re here at Watford. You’re okay. You’re home, you’re safe.”</p>
<p>Baz is crying, oh God he’s crying into my shirt, and maybe he’s getting snot all over it but I don’t seem to care, still reeling from the image that had flashed in my mind. Was that real? It felt like it was, and my mouth fills with the unpleasant taste of fear. Christ, was that where he was all this time? How long? How long had he been in there, waiting for someone to get him out, giving hope in the dark, all alone and scared? I knew I would’ve been scared to death, possibly literally, but Baz? He’s untouchable, larger than life. At least I thought he was, and I feel his hands grip at my shirt, sobs winding down into sniffles, nuzzling his nose into the fabric of my shirt. Maybe he’s more human than I thought.</p>
<p>“I’m okay,” Baz echoes, hiccuping a little. My hand squeezes his  hip, circling his waist. I realise how close we are now, his cologne filling my senses as his hair tickles my cheek. I should pry him off, push him back into his bed and flee. Instead I let my warmth become his, my heart beating erratically under his palm. “I’m at Watford.”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah you’re...you’re safe, Baz.”</p>
<p>“Simon,” he mumbles, and I freeze, hand still against his neck. “Simon’s the Chosen One. Snow saves everyone,” he chuckles, and his voice is bitter, something familiar but tinged with sadness. “But he didn’t save me.”</p>
<p>I look down, Baz’s eyes still closed, cheek squished against my chest. “Baz—”</p>
<p>“He didn’t save me,” he repeats, sniffing loudly. “Because I’m not worth it. I don’t deserve saving.”</p>
<p>Anger rises in my chest, different to the one I usually feel around Baz. “That’s— that’s not true.”</p>
<p>“You know what I am, Auntie,” Baz says, and his voice is scornful now. “Monsters don’t deserve to be saved. You should’ve left me to die.”</p>
<p>“You are not a monster,” I say firmly, fingers tightening across his waist. “You’re a downright pain in the arse, but you’re not a monster. Monsters are bad, and I believe you’re not. Simon...Simon believes it too,” I add quietly, and I’m surprised that it sounds truthful. That it is truthful. “If he’d known where you were he...he would’ve rescued you. Even if you’ve caused him hell for the past seven years. He believes you’re worth saving. He...he believes in you.”</p>
<p>Baz sniffs, silent for so long that I think he’s fallen into deeper sleep. I tuck his head under my chin, rubbing circles at the base of his spine. He hums pleasantly at that, arching against my fingers, and I feel my heart stutter as he does, his hair a soft and tangled mess in my other hand. </p>
<p>“I guess you’re right, Auntie,” he grumbles, and I laugh at how childish he sounds, imagine him pouting into my shirt.</p>
<p>“Auntie’s always right,” I smile. “And Simon’s not that bad. In fact, he’s a pretty stellar roommate.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Baz huffs. “That’s why I love him.”</p>
<p>Far away, I hear a loud crash. Then I realise it’s not far away, it’s me, scrambling away from Baz so fast that I topple off the bed with a shriek and a thump, bringing half the duvet with me and sending the bedside table crashing on it’s side. My backside smarts with pain, and I groan, rolling on my side to rub against my tailbone, hitting my head on the upturned table and hissing with pain. </p>
<p>“What the...Snow?”</p>
<p>Baz is sitting upright on his bed, duvet on the floor so his whole body is exposed. His pyjamas are creased, and he blinks blearily at me on the ground near his bed, grey eyes still a little dazed. I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t look at him right now, not after what he just said.</p>
<p>That’s why I love him.</p>
<p>That’s why he loves me. Simon Snow.</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>“Care to explain what you’re doing?” Baz asks, eyebrow raised. </p>
<p>“I—well, you...I mean—”</p>
<p>Baz runs a hand through his hair, glaring at me with that familiar contempt. Only now it doesn’t elicit rage but confusion, my mind muddled. “Eloquent as ever, Snow,” he drawls, sarcasm in his smirk.</p>
<p>“You were talking in your sleep,” I blurt, and I meet his eyes this time, my throat dry. “We were talking. You thought...you thought I was your aunt s-so you...you told me stuff.”</p>
<p>Baz’s expression doesn’t change. “What stuff?”</p>
<p>“Baz I’m so sorry,” I start, biting my lip. “I only wanted to know about Agatha, but then you told me you liked boys then you started panicking about numpties and then when you told me you loved me—”</p>
<p>“I did. What.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. I promise, you can do anything to me. You can date Agatha. You can spell my underwear to my trousers again, or anything else. Even if it’s all not true, I’d let you—”</p>
<p>“No,” Baz’s voice cuts in, clear and distinct. He’s not looking at me, eyes fixed on the window near my shoulder, jaw tight with tension. “It’s true.”</p>
<p>I hesitate, chest thrumming with fear. Or something that’s pretty close to it, that makes my hands clammy and the words stick to my throat. A laugh escapes from it, hoarse and scratchy. “But not all of it, right? Not—”</p>
<p>“Yes, I don’t fancy Agatha,” Baz starts, and his eyes are on me again, grey flashing with fury. “Yes, it’s because I like boys. Yes, I was kidnapped by fucking numpties, and kept in a coffin for six fucking weeks with no food until my aunt found me. If you tell anyone about that, I’ll cleave your insides from your body and shove them up your arse.”</p>
<p>“I won’t tell,” I nod quickly. “Not about the numpties, or...or that you like...boys.”</p>
<p>Baz narrows his eyes. “I’m not ashamed.”</p>
<p>“No, I-I never said you were!” I hold my hands up, waving them in front of me. “I just...I’m not gonna use it as...leverage or something. I promise.”</p>
<p>“I know that,” Baz snaps. </p>
<p>That’s why I love him. I swallow hard. “B-but the other thing that...that you said. You’re not...I mean, you can’t be—”</p>
<p>“Oh for Crowley’s sake, yes, Snow, I’m in love with you,” Baz sighs, and I wonder why I’m the one that’s blushing, and Baz is the one that’s normal, the exasperated expression one of many he always directs at me. “I’ve been hopelessly and stupidly in love with you since we were fifteen. Happy?”</p>
<p>I’m...not. I don’t know what I am. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the world’s most stupid face on, but I can’t bring myself to care, or move. Baz is sitting on his bed, staring at me quizzically, and he doesn’t look the least bit distraught or heartbroken. He’s more put together than he was mere minutes ago, crying and clutching my chest. It makes me think he’s joking, ready for him to let out a bark of laughter and point his finger with a wicked grin. Can’t believe I fooled you Snow, is what he’ll say. Then again, it’s not that hard to fool you, is it? Not much going on in there anyways.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t say anything, and the longer he stays silent the more I think, over how it’s always been me who started most of our fights, or how Baz would stare at me with a fire I always assumed to loathing, or how whenever he’d flirt at Agatha he’d hardly be looking at her, grey eyes fixed on me with an unreadable emotion. </p>
<p>I don’t even realise Baz has moved until I hear the wardrobe door slam, and my head snaps up, at Baz shrugging on his blazer. He meets my eyes, and I feel heat simmer in my cheeks again. “Well?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. “Are you coming or not?”</p>
<p>I frown, puzzled. “Where?”</p>
<p>“Where else? Your beloved Mage. To his office, come on.”</p>
<p>“But— what for?”</p>
<p>“Crowley, you’re so dense, Snow.” Baz turns to me, arms folded over his chest. “To switch rooms, imbecile.”</p>
<p>I’m standing up now, stumbling over the fallen duvet. “Switch rooms?”</p>
<p>“It’s clear you’re not going to be comfortable with...with this,” Baz starts, and there’s a vulnerability in his voice, one that makes me stop and pay attention. “So we’re gonna go to the Mage and ask him to switch rooms.”</p>
<p>“But that’s impossible,” I say, and the anger’s back again, tongue in cheek. “The Crucible—”</p>
<p>“Fuck the Crucible,” Baz says, waving it off as he tucks his wand in his pocket. He stops at the mirror, smoothing his raven mane. It’s hard to focus on staying angry when watching him do that. He turns round, looking me up and down in a way that makes me feel smaller than I am. “He’ll do anything for his precious Heir. Just kick up a fuss when we get there.”</p>
<p>“But I don’t want to kick up a fuss,” I reply, and I’m stepping into his path towards the door. </p>
<p>“Well, what do you suggest we do to get the Mage to listen? Please, enlighten me, O Wise and Chosen One.”</p>
<p>“I’m not suggesting anything, because we’re not going,” I say firmly. “I’m not changing my roommate.” </p>
<p>Baz tries to step around me, but I mirror his movements, and he fixes a glare on me. “If you’re not coming I’ll do it myself.”</p>
<p>“Baz, wait, you’re not listening to me,” I state, and grab his arm as he darts behind me, pulling him back. “Why can’t we stay the same?”</p>
<p>“It’s not the same anymore, is it Snow?” He hisses, and he tries to remove my hand, pulling at my wrist. “It’s all different now, because now you know. And I’m trying to help you for once, so just let go.”</p>
<p>“No,” I snap, and he snarls, pushing at my chest. I stumble backwards, and he reaches for the door, but I’m quick, slamming it shut and pushing him against the wall, one hand pressing against his shoulder. “Yes, it’s different, but it’s not in the way you think. I’m not ashamed of you, Baz—”</p>
<p>“It’s not about that!” Baz shouts, teeth bared as he pushes against my arm, to no avail. “It’s the fact that I’ll be moping over you for the next months like I have been for the past five years, except this time you’ll know, and I don’t want your fucking pity! I don’t want it!” Baz exhales, a hiss of hot breath against my cheek. His lips curl into a smile, and he lets out a hollow laugh. “Or maybe you’d like that, wouldn’t you Snow? You’d like it if I suffered in silence next to you. You’d love to knock me down a peg and constantly remind me how pathetic and stupid I am.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true,” I growl, grabbing the front of his shirt. “You don’t know anything about what I want.”</p>
<p>“I know you want to get one over me, once and for all. And this would be it, wouldn’t it? You’d get everything you wanted, the girl and the villain’s demise.” He laughs again, but this time it’s pained, and he’s blinking rapidly above his faltering smirk. “The perfect ending for the precious Chosen One.”</p>
<p>“Stop calling me that,” I demand, fingers clenched across his collar, and I’m scared I’m choking him. “I don’t want to be the Chosen One, and I don’t want Agatha. I don’t want you to be pathetic or heartbroken or pining for another year, but I don’t want you to not be my roommate. Fuck, I...I don’t want you to be just my roommate.”</p>
<p>Baz’s smirk drops, eyes wide and bemused. “Snow—”</p>
<p>And I know he’s going to say something stupid again, something that will make my anger and magic lash out of control, so I decide to do something stupid, yanking him forward and bringing my lips onto his. It’s more than stupid, it’s insane, and it hurts, the way his lips bump into mine and our teeth clack together. It’s clumsy, and awkward, and his hair is in my mouth so it’s a little gross too, so I start to pull away, ready to apologise.</p>
<p>I’m not ready for the snark that rips through his throat, his hands gripping the sides of my face and angling his lips against mine. He sucks at my bottom lip, and a spike of fear incites through me, wondering if he’s going to sink his fangs into it and drain me dry. Instead his tongue slips into my mouth, and the fear dissolves to hunger, urging me to do the same, pushing him so his back hits the wall again. There’s a loud, rumbling sound, and I realise it’s me, moaning as he licks the roof of my mouth, guiding it over his own. </p>
<p>“Crowley, you’re loud, Snow,” Baz groans, hands lacing around my neck. </p>
<p>“You would be if you were tasting yourself,” I say, no bite in my words. “You taste amazing.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know. I have tasted myself, on plenty of occasions.”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” I growl, and my hands run down his side, pushing up the hem of his shirt and grabbing his hips. I did not need that image in my head, not right now when my own jeans feel too tight. “Did you...think of me? When you taste yourself?”</p>
<p>Baz pulls away, eyes a wild grey, like roiling thunderstorms. It makes my heart stop, at how unkept he looks, how different he is from his perfect self, how I made him like that. “Snow you...you like girls.”</p>
<p>I pause, licking my lips. “Yeah. And I...I like boys, too.”</p>
<p>“Since when?”</p>
<p>“Since you,” I say, looking up at him. “I mean, n-not right now. It’s been...a while. A year or so. I was always fascinated by you, even when we met. I wanted to be your friend. And then, when it was so obvious that you despised my entire being,” I point out, poking him in the ribs. He grabs my finger, wrapping his hand around it, and my cheeks burn. “I thought I had to hate you. Anything, just so I...so you could see me. I wanted to be seen by you. And maybe along the way, I realised I wanted to be seen in a completely different and utterly terrifying way.”</p>
<p>“Snow,” Baz sighs, and he presses his forehead against mine, breathing deep. Briefly, I wonder what I smell like, if I smell just as intoxicating as he does, if it drives him mad the way it’s always driven me mad, how much I find the scent so infuriating and lovely at the same time. “I’ve always seen you. You’re the only thing I see, sometimes. The only thing I want to see. And touch,” he smiles, knuckles grazing my cheekbone, fingers cupping my jaw. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” I say. “If I’d known where you were all this time, I—”</p>
<p>“I know.” Baz lifts my chin upwards, and our noses brush. “I’m okay, remember? I’m okay with you.”</p>
<p>Baz kisses me again, soft and slow, drawing back and dipping into it again, and it leaves me sighing like a lovesick first year, which I’m pretty sure I am. What with the way my cheeks blush as his fingers run along my jaw, the other hand curling in my hair, the way I’m leaning against him with no feeling in my legs, save for the buzzing warmth flooding my veins. “Baz,” I murmur, lips tingling as he breathes through his nose. “You never call me Simon. You only...you only call me Snow. Or The Chosen One.”</p>
<p>“Is that what you want?” Baz asks, and his hand tugs at my hair gently, my head tilting upwards as his lips run down the line of my jaw. A small whine is stuck in my throat, and I press our hips close together. “To hear your name on my lips?”</p>
<p>I nod, because the only sounds coming out of my mouth are staggered pants, so hopelessly gone by Baz merely pressing kisses on my neck and stroking my hair. “Simon,” he mumbles into my collarbone, and I feel my heart quiver then drop to my stomach. “Simon, Simon, Simon.”</p>
<p>“Fucking hell,” I stammer, hands pushing up and under his shirt, skimming his abs. “Why’s your voice so deep?”</p>
<p>Baz pulls away, resting his head against the door and pouting, just like he did when he was sleeping. And just like before, I feel my stomach clench. “You don’t like my voice?”</p>
<p>“Oh for fuck— I hate you so much,” I grumble, pulling him from the door pressing our lips together again. “You know you sound sexy.”</p>
<p>“I do,” Baz hums gleefully. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”</p>
<p>“You are such a big headed, narcissistic ass—” My words cut off with a yelp, as Baz’ hands clench the back of my thighs and lift me in the air, hoisting me around his waist. My hands fly wildly in the air, catching hold of his shoulders. “Baz!”</p>
<p>He merely laughs, and I shriek as he stumbles towards his bed, dropping me unceremoniously on top, my head hitting his pillow. I frown as he climbs over me, one leg in between my thighs and two hands planted on each side of my head. He flicks my nose, grinning lazily. “Hi.”</p>
<p>I huff, but a smile twitches on my face, and I’m grinning too when he kisses me, open mouthed and warm, just like the weight of his body on mine, like my heart that swells and sputters and stops just for him. “Hi,” I say, trying not to frown when I reach and rub a finger under his eyes, the purple fatigue faded, but still there. “You should get some sleep.”</p>
<p>Baz whines, and he really needs to stop pouting. I never realised how childish he could be. “Why should I when we could do so much more fun things,” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows as he presses against me.</p>
<p>“Because,” I start, gritting my teeth as heat flares in my vision. “I don’t want you falling asleep halfway. I want you to enjoy it. And I...I need you to be awake. I’ve never...done stuff with a boy before.”</p>
<p>Baz snorts. “You can say sex, you know.”</p>
<p>“I know that!” I snap, heat rising in my cheeks. Concern still makes me bite my lip, brushing the curls out of his face. “I need you to sleep, Baz. You look dead on your legs. Pun unintended.”</p>
<p>Baz rolls his eyes, but they’re downcast, and the smile fades to a twisted frown. “I don’t want another nightmare.”</p>
<p>“I’ll protect you this time,” I insist, and he falls onto his side next to me, so that we’re facing each other. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. And I promise you, I’ll still like you when you wake up. Even if you snore.”</p>
<p>“I don’t snore,” Baz replies, and he yawns, leaning his head against my shoulder. “You’re not gonna make me tell you all the little things I love about you while I’m sleeping, right?”</p>
<p>I laugh, and place an arm around his waist, bringing us closer together. Us, I think, toying with the word in my head with a small smile. A few hours ago I wouldn’t have dreamed that the word would be used for Baz and I. But now it is us, lying here on his bed, wrapped around each other, foolishly and beautifully in love. And I am in love, although I’m not ready to say it right now, even if Baz is halfway into sleep, mumbling my name into my chest and interlacing his hand in mine.</p>
<p>“No promises.”</p>
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